Nostalgic
by From Spark to Flame
Summary: /I hated the rain…It made me feel so. Nostalgic. And depressed. It also gave me a weird tendency to quote Shakespeare….Don’t ask./ N is for Nostalgic...The N drabble in the ABCDMHG series


Disclaimer: The Hp series is not mine.

A/N: Whoop another fic! This is the N in the ABC drabbles...I was bored, so I started writing in Physics...And I finished in English...(Which I should never ever do! Writing in Englsih I mean)...

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"It just so happens that…" I tuned out Professor Sprout and heaved a sigh. I turned my head and peered out the countless greenhouse windows. It was too wet outside for the lesson we were supposed to have. So we got stuck inside the suffocating, stuffy greenhouse. Longbottom, however, was thrilled… I rolled my eyes. He was such a dork.

My eyes roamed toward the sky, taking in the sight of the dark grey clouds moving across the sky at a very slow pace. I could see the rain pitter patting on the surface of the greenhouse. The trees outside seemed to shrink under the weight of the water. Mud caked the walkways to the castle. I shuddered at the thought of having to walk through there later.

Thunder crackled, sending shivers through my body. The flash of lightning, which caused everyone to jump in shock as the lights illuminated the sky, caused my hairs to stand on end. I hated the rain…It made me feel so. Nostalgic. And depressed. It also gave me a weird tendency to quote Shakespeare….Don't ask.

Professor Sprout was still prattling on, though nobody was actually paying attention. Well, maybe Longbottom was. And Hermione. She was scrunched up over her notes, her hand moving at a crazy pace. Or rather, everyone assumes that they're notes….Who knows. Maybe Its smut…About me and her. In bed. What?! I guy and dream can't he? Dude…. I'm a hormonal teenage boy. What do you think I'd think about?!

But anyway, about Hermione. How does she even concentrate? With the wind howling through the trees? With the rain pounding on every available surface? With the clouds thundering up above? And how can anyone at all be so oblivious to the drowsy mood set upon the whole class. Weasel was even asleep on the desk next to her, and yet she made no notice. Either she's really concentrating on the notes, or she's really into her smut….

Her eyes were furrowed in concentration and a serious look was set upon her face. Hermione's pink tongue slipped out and slowly ran across her bright pink lips. My mind wandered…Did she wear lip gloss? No maybe not. She doesn't look like those vain girls that drown themselves in makeup and lip gloss. Like Pansy…

But rather, she's natural. So pure. Her soft brown locks fell in curls around her angelic face. Hermione's soft complection seemed so bright against the dark greens and grays of the greenhouse. I stared at those chocolate eyes as she watched the professor intently, her eyes following every move and ears milking in every sound. She watched every word escape Professor Sprout's lips.

Hemrione's hand suddenly shot up, slightly startling Weasle, who was drooling on the desk by that point. I watched the words spill out of Hermione's mouth, her voice filling my ears. The Professor answered her question, and Hermione turned back to her smut-umm I mean notes- to write it down.

Her long eyelashes fluttered rapidly. Maybe the mood was finally catching up to her. But then, I noticed how tired she looked. I could see the almost unnoticeable bags under her eyes.

Worry built up in my heart. What was wrong? Was she off on another of those middle-of-the-night-deathly-adventures-that-are-supposed-to-save-the-wizarding-world-but-are-still-super-dangerous with Potter and Weasel?

I wanted to stand up and trudge over to her and take her face in my hands to make her look me in the eyes so that I could ask her what was wrong. But I couldn't. It didn't matter that I was secretly crushing on her. Nope. It didn't matter one bit.

'I have a soul of lead so stakes me to the ground.' I cannot move. I could not go ask her anything. I couldn't even go up to her. How could I? I am a Malfoy. A pureblood. A Slytherin. And what is she? A muggle born Gryffindor, the lowest rank one can have in the hierarchy in the pureblood world.

I couldn't pursue her; no matter how much I wanted too. And please do make a note that I wanted her A LOT.

I yearn to hold her in my arms. I dream of placing soft kisses on her sweet lips. I have visions of us dancing in the moonlight and me running my hand through her curly, brown hair. But doing this is a danger. A very great danger.

Just asking her out would put me at the center of ridicule both at Hogwarts, and in the Daily Prophet. And along with that, would come scorn, from my parents and everyone of the pureblood society. Asking her out, would put me at my father's mercy, which is as small as his heart. No. It's not worth it. They are just dreams.

'Alas. I dream. Which are the children of an idle brain, begot of nothing but vain fantasy; which is a thin of substance as air, and more inconstant than the wind, who woos even now the frozen bosom of the North and, being angered, puffs away from thence, turning his face to the dew-dropping South.' Ugh.

See the effect of my boredom and the rain. This is how bored I am. I'm quoting Shakespeare. Very lame. But it fits my situation so perfectly, that I could not resist. Shakespeare. Romeo and Juliet.

I guess I'm Romeo and Hermione is…my Rosaline. The one who I want, yet cannot have. The one who I can never have. Hermione. My beautiful, untainted, chaste Rosaline. And what was it? The idiotic, lovesick fool Romeo.

I sighed and bit my lip. I could never have her. Never in my whole life. Only in my dreams. Just my dreams…

I turned my attention toward Professor Sprout. The nostalgic pitter patter of the rain echoed loudly in my head.

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A/N: Dudes...I've had this written up since like Monday. i was jsut too lazy to type it...It was soooo much (I filled up the whole piece of paper...literally...and not in normal writing either, my writing twisted around the whole page, so when I was typing it up, I had to keep turning the paper this way and that. Hehe...) But anyway, I finally typed it up!

So do you get why I should never write in English? I start making all these references to Romeo and Juliet...

I'll stop rambling now...And just make a note that my math grade did go up, because of me actually studying and not reading/writing for once...hehe

Please do review! People don't really review much for angsty fics...thats jsut something I noticed.

XOXO

Flame


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